From street walking to sleepwalking
Philippa Stockley enjoys two new books inspired by the 19th century’s spirit of scientific and intellectual discovery
HAlf ghost story, half historical novel, The Walworth Beauty flits between the mid 19th century and today and, from the word go, is richly atmospheric and poetic. Michèle roberts’s title draws on the Camberwell beauty, a rare butterfly, but applies to a mysterious character, Mrs Dulcimer, who lives in Walworth, south london— still countryside, but rapidly being developed.
The author offers a split narrative with two main proponents: 60-something Madeleine, a university lecturer living in a tiny flat who’s just been made redundant, and Joseph Benson, a researcher for 19th-century journalist henry Mayhew. Both are on the cusp of change: Joseph because he has a family to feed and is in serious debt; Madeleine because she moves to a cheaper area (Walworth) for a fresh start. linking the narratives, Madeleine buys a volume of Mayhew’s opus from a charity shop.
Mayhew’s famous illustrated series, London Labour and the London Poor, ran from 1851 to 1865, with verbatim accounts of trades. for a special edition about criminals, he hired contributors and fictional Joseph is one of these.
Mayhew categorised prostitutes as criminals, but, as Joseph interviews and sometimes samples streetwalkers, he finds himself increasingly at odds with this definition. Drawn to the house of the mysterious, flamboyant Mrs Dulcimer in Apricot Place, Walworth, attracted by her ambiguous household full of girls, he assumes her to be a madam. During the course of the novel, this idea is called into question.
Meanwhile, modern Madeleine moves into Mrs Dulcimer’s former basement and strangeness ensues: inexplicable sounds, sensed presences. Madeleine’s story is fascinating. An attractive 60-year-old with a gay best friend and a lively social life is a regrettably rare heroine; Madeleine might have enjoyed and supported her own novel.
As with all hybrids, the novel has pluses and minuses. Joseph’s story stands on its own. A moment in which the two worlds collide seems slightly forced, almost as if the author felt obliged to link them, but, even so, full of rich colour and supple evocation, this is a provocative novel whose strong flavours linger. SET In the early to mid 19th century, Wendy Moore’s superb The Mesmerist—an account of doctor John elliotson—reads like a novel. Miss Moore, author of the acclaimed The Knife Man (about 18th-century surgeon John hunter) gets under the skin of fascinating characters.
The son of a chemist, elliotson survived the snobbish, rigid and nepotistic early-19th-century process of qualifying as a doctor and became a senior physician in 1823, at the age of 32. Outgoing, inquisitive, a europhile and keen to advance science in the face of apathy and hostility, despite vigorous opposition, he learned and practised mesmerism (hypnotism).
At a time when operations done without anaesthetic were often fatal, mesmerism provided a pain-free alternative, even for amputations.
Charles Dickens called elliotson ‘good, and clever’ and became a friend. The author’s dry asides combined with the unsentimental light she sheds on a period of often shocking medical experimentation make this an informative and riveting page turner.